


The Reluctant Savior

by LLCoyote



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLCoyote/pseuds/LLCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie is taken captive in New Vegas and in order to get free, she'll have to place her trust in the man she hates most. And she's decided the only thing worse than not being able to kill him, is beginning to understanding him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never posted to this site before and I sincerely hope I'm doing so correctly. I may move some of my other works over from other sites once I get more accustomed to the style and everything. 
> 
> I may end up removing the character slots for Miles/Rachel, I'm not sure if I'm really going to expand on their part, or keep this a short story. As it is, I wrote the first chapter of this fic about a week after I saw the trailer for season 2 and heard Monroe was fighting in a whore house for money. (It's very satisfying to know I guessed he lived in a trailer park and ended up being right) I've made some minor tweaks, but if you're wondering why this is different from the cannon version... that's why. Anyway, I don't have a lot of time to write right now, my big, main story I was working on is on temporary hold, possibly until December but I REALLY hope not... that means nothing to you because it isn't on this site. 
> 
> Alright, this is just a warning, I know I've put it IN the warnings at the top of the fic but there WILL be rape in here and it will be fairly graphic. There will also be sex in eventual chapters (lol there is only going to be like three chapters XD) I'm not going to skimp out on the details of either because I feel like (especially with the rape) it adds a lot of emotion to the story. In order to rely on Monroe, Charlie is going to have to be extremely desperate. So sex, rape, possibly violence, maybe some drug use... Idk yet.
> 
> Also I don't actually own Revolution... but if I could own Elizabeth Mitchell I.... I'm so sorry I won't go on.

Charlie took a deep breath and tried to settle herself. She’d seen him. Finally after an entire month in the city of New Vegas, she’d seen Monroe up close, out of the fighting ring. It hadn’t been difficult to find him initially. New Vegas was more like a large festival than a city and Monroe was a star attraction. Of course, he didn’t go by his real name here. He went by “Jimmy” apparently, but she hadn’t needed his name to track him down. Even a vague description of him had set off a spark of recognition in a young hooker’s eyes, which had nodded her head and told Charlie, “Sure, the temperamental one. Fights a few times a week over at Miss Lila’s. I think he’s goin’ a few rounds tonight.” Charlie had thanked her, and it was as simple as that. Her first night in New Vegas she found what she was looking for.

Miss Lila’s was the largest “establishment” in New Vegas. It consisted of three broken down, two story houses, and two large tents. Technically, it was a bar, and it was also a casino, but a person didn’t have to be as smart as Aaron or her mother to figure out that this was primarily a whore house. Within the first few minutes of entering the back tent (which was used for fighting and other forms of gambling), two men asked her “how much”. When she’d pointedly said she was not a hooker, they laughed right in her face. Luckily, that had been the end of it though and she’d slipped deeper into the thick crowd of hot, sweaty, bodies, in a tight ring at the far side of the tent. That’s where she’d first seen Monroe. It was also the first time she’d felt truly afraid of him. 

She’d never seen him in a situation where he wasn’t completely composed. He’d always been nonviolent and dripping with a faux gentlemanly charm. Here… he was like an animal. He was a predator, silently circling his prey on a diagonal. His chest was bruised and clotted with a mixture of dirt and blood; it was heaving erratically and dripping with sweat. It was definitely Monroe, but not the one she’d come to know and despise. She could no longer picture him sitting in a chopper, watching casually as the bullets flew and the blood of hundred’s sprayed as their bodies fell to the ground; lifeless. Not that she hated him any less… but now she was afraid of him.

He’d struck. It was so fast and hard that she would have flinched if she weren’t entirely enthralled. The crowd roared in pleasure, pushing and pressing against itself, eager for more. His opponent jerked back and fell against the sidelines, only barely rolling out of the way before Monroe’s ruthless fist came down. Stupidly, the man rushed straight for Monroe. He slammed his fist clean into the ear of the former general’s head, but if Monroe felt it… he sure as hell didn’t act like it. Monroe struck like a rattler, hard and fast. His fist made such a hard impact against the man’s gut that she’d been able to hear it from where she was. The ex-general didn’t stop though, not this time. His arm swung three more times, and his opponent fell to the ground, bloody and unconscious. The crowd around her cheered for him, some shouted angrily (she guessed because they bet against him), but Monroe didn’t even seem to hear them. He stood tall and rolled his shoulders, jerking his head to the side to crack his neck, and then slipped through the dense wall of human bodies to get his prize money.

It was the same thing every couple of nights. Monroe would fight, Monroe would win, and Monroe would disappear without a trace. None of the men knew where he was, and the ones that claimed to know said they’d tell her “for a price”. The women were just as useless. At least 90 percent of the other females in the entire city were prostitutes, and apparently hookers don’t share client information, with other women especially. It was enough to drive her insane. He was here, right under her nose somewhere, and she couldn’t find him… at least not until earlier today.

She’d taken a walk right at dusk, just as the city was beginning to come alive again, and she’d heard a woman talking with a man whose voice was very familiar. Charlie peeked her head around the corner into the alley next to Miss Lila’s. A window was open and a curvy woman in a tight corset was leaning out, looking in the opposite direction as she smoked her cigarette. It was just idle chit-chat. Something about how there had been a tiger seen around the outskirts of town, and a joke about how Monroe could probably kill it bare handed. Hidden in the seemingly useless conversation though, the woman had given Charlie the information she’d been looking for. 

“I’d board up the windows of that shithole of a trailer you’re living in.” The woman had said, “They say it’s roaming ‘round the west end of town.” 

Five minutes later Monroe had strolled out of the whore house and disappeared into the ever darkening night. 

That was about two hours ago now, maybe more. Charlie didn’t have a watch, so she couldn’t be sure. But the moon was high and bright against the black sky, providing her with enough light to see but ample darkness and thick enough crowds to hide in. She’d always thought that more people would mean more chances of getting caught, but so few people paid attention to her here. If they weren’t telling her to watch where she was walking, or asking her to sleep with them, then they didn’t appear to see her at all. She was a ghost. What was one face out of one thousand? Nothing. And that is all she was; a face. She wasn’t Charlie here, just some random blonde with nice breasts. It wasn’t as degrading as you’d think. Actually, it was freeing. It helped her disassociate herself from her own name, which helped her keep her emotions contained. 

Charlie slung her crossbow over her left shoulder and casually stepped out into the middle of the road. She took her time heading down to the west end of town. ‘Don’t be stupid. Don’t rush… Don’t be afraid’ She whispered to herself like a mantra. This was it. In just a few short minutes she’d be face to face with Monroe. She’d raise her bow and pull the trigger and he’d pay for everything. This wasn't just about Danny anymore. He’d taken so much more from her than her brother. If not for him her mother would have never left, and her father would still be alive. If not for him she’d have never lost Danny, and hundreds of rebels would be alive. If it wasn't for him, this horrible, pitiful excuse for a human being, they’d have never gone to the Tower and Nora would be alive and well. It was his fault. Everything that had ever happened to her, aside from the blackout, came back to him. Worst of all, he’d taken her innocence… She’d never be that girl from a small village in Wisconsin again. Now she was a warrior. She’d spilled blood; so much that it didn't even bother her anymore. The lives she took were justified, because she was a soldier on a mission. When was the last time she even let herself cry? Months ago, at the very least. She’d only shed a few tears for Nora, as opposed to the many she’d shed for her father. And why was that? Not because she loved Nora any less than her father. Nora had been like a sister to her, or maybe an aunt, but Nora was just as much Charlie’s family as Maggie, or Danny, or her mother. But Charlie was different now. Now she had to be tough. She had to compartmentalize and see past petty feelings. All of that, every last bit of it was Monroe’s fault… and now he was going to pay for it. 

She stopped to stare at the black abyss before her. The entrance to the ‘West side of town’ was eerily devoid of human life. She hadn't heard good things about this part of New Vegas. It was definitely the roughest part of the city, and was home to the permanent residents of New Vegas. So it wasn't uninhabited… just much more barren than the main ‘strip’ (as it was called by the locals). She could see a few torches in the darkness, with groups of three or four men around them, talking loudly in garbled tones. They didn't look like the type of people that she wanted to get involved with. Every single one of them that she could make out was large, filthy, and well muscled. Call it profiling, but they just looked like the type of people that would stab you for breathing their air.

Charlie pressed herself against a building and slipped around back. How she was actually going to find out just one of these trailers belonged to Monroe wasn't something she’d thought about on her way over… and now she was paying for it. She should have just taken the risk and followed him from afar… but she’d been too afraid he would see her. What would he do if he managed to catch her? Charlie suppressed a shiver of disgust and fright. He’d kept her mother alive for years and tortured her. Would he do the same thing to Charlie as he’d done to her mother or would he try to kill her fast? Honestly she didn't want to find out. She wanted to kill him from a far and be done with all of this. 

Her lithe fingers curled around the cool metal frame of a dented window sill and she squinted her eyes to see through the dirty glass. It didn't look like anyone was in there, better yet Monroe, so she quietly slipped over to the next one. Nothing again. Charlie repeated the process with every trailer she could manage to see into, placing a pebble in the cracks of the window’s that she’d already looked into. Her heart pumped harder with every empty trailer she passed. She could feel the tips of her toes throbbing uncomfortably in her boots and her fingers trembled in the moonlight. Somewhere to her left a door slammed, and Charlie jumped just a little before silently cursing herself. She was being ridiculous… but still she checked the alleyway to her left for signs of life. 

With a shake of her head Charlie peered into the next trailer, and her breath caught in her chest. It was him! He was sitting in an ugly blue armchair, reading a large slip of paper and drinking from a half empty bottle. He couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen feet away from her… But she couldn’t shoot him through the window; it would seriously mess up the trajectory of her arrow. With anxious fingers she fiddled with the Plexiglas, trying to wiggle it open just enough to get a clear shot through. With a silent hiss the window cracked open, just slightly, but not quite enough yet. The trailer shook and Charlie ducked down, but it wasn't Monroe moving around. Charlotte slid up the side of the trailer silently to glance back inside. A tall blonde woman was now straddling Monroe’s hips, kissing his dirty neck eagerly. Great; his hooker was blocking her shot… and try as she might, Charlie couldn't justify killing some innocent woman just to get to Monroe even if she could get the stupid window open. She groaned inwardly and ducked back into the alley way. She wasn't about to watch whatever they were about to do. 

Charlie slung her crossbow back over her shoulder and sat down with her back against an empty trailer. The women in this town were so intriguing to her. The sheer number of hookers you could find in New Vegas was interesting, and they were completely different from the ones she’d met in the Monroe Republic. They weren't bone thin with hollow expressions, offering themselves up to anyone on the street that would buy them a meal, nor were they the haughty, snake-like women she’d met at Drexel’s, who had been cold and indifferent to her. These women were truly confident in what they had to offer and they were fearless in the throngs of rough, cut-throat men that hung around this town to gamble. They lounged out on street corners, clad in nothing but underpants in some cases, their bodies swaying casually. Their eyes always had a devious spark in them, paired with a sensual smirk of their shapely lips. When she spoke to them they were always warm and sweet with her, willing to chat until a paying customer whisked them away. Everything about them was smooth and sultry, dark and inviting. It was like they were dancing in their own skin to music no one else could hear, luring in the clients without even having to seek them out. Perhaps that was why all of the men asked her to sleep with them. Maybe they all figured she was like the rest of the women, waiting to be asked and invited into their beds; like some strange form of courtship. 

She shook her head and closed her eyes, only for a moment. Monroe’s trailer was shaking now. The loud, unrestrained moans of his female companion could be heard escaping through the small crack Charlie had made in the window. She felt a twinge of something shameful. Curiosity. And try as she might, Charlie couldn't manage to squash it. Her stomach clenched when she heard the low, throaty groans of her target. Something felt like it was twisting in her gut… no, it was lower than that and she felt sick that she couldn't dismiss the feeling. How could any part of her want to go back to that window and see him… like that? He was a monster, a sick, twisted, psychopath. But that was almost appealing to her. His wild, angry nature, like that of a forest fire. She knew she shouldn't want to stare at the flames, she knew they would burn and destroy her like they had everything else in their path, but she felt the urge to reach out her hand and… Charlie tried to regulate her harsh, erratic breathing. She drew in air until her chest hurt and forced herself to let it out slowly.

Thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump-thump

Her heart continued to pound. Behind her eyelids, she saw a flash of his intense glare and a hard body moving against the soft curves of the blonde from the trailer, his fingers twisted in her hair, holding her to him so that she couldn’t escape as her thin hips worked roughly against his, and her breasts heaved. A loud cry came from the trailer, almost like a scream; a scream of complete and total surrender, of submission, of ecstasy, and Charlie snarled in fury. Charlotte punched the trailer behind her forcefully and stood up. Was she angry or terrified… or something else? A little of all three. Her head was spinning and her blood was racing. She wasn't thinking straight… she needed to get the hell out of here. She took off down the alley, running at full speed.

‘Why are you running?’ She shouted at herself, but didn’t slow down. It felt good to run. The more distance between them, the more her fear faded, and the exertion of pushing herself to run so hard drained the tension out of her muscles. Charlie finally stopped to lean against a gate, panting to catch her breath. There was a small herd of farm animals inside the fence. Each one looked up with a droll, yet alert, expression as if they all thought she was lunatic, before going back to the pile of hay in the trough. Charlie allowed herself a moment’s rest, reaching out to rub the nose of a little black goat that approached to nibble her fingers and see if she had any food. 

A flash of white hot pain shot through the back of her skull, as something dull collided against it. The involuntary noise that escaped her lips wasn’t a scream, more like a loud, strangled groan. Who had followed her? She doubled over, swaying back and forth, her vision swam before her. She hadn’t heard anyone coming after her. The only person around her had been Monroe. Charlie reached for her bow, which had fallen off of her shoulder, but another wave of pain came as he struck her again. It was definitely a he, she could feel his hand on her arm steadying her as the word went dark around her. How could she have been so stupid as to let the bastard see her running away from his trailer? Charlie slumped to her knees and with a hard sigh, fell unconscious in his arms.


	2. Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last time I'm warning you about the rape. It isn't as graphic as the sex scene will be a later chapter (because Charlie is totally tripping balls) but still. Rape is rape, and it is in here. 
> 
> Sorry no Monroe in this one, but he'll be here in the next two. I think this is going to pan out to be about four chapters long.

“Why would you hit ‘er?” A woman’s voice snarled in the distance. Charlie could just hear it in the distance. It was muffled by what she assumed was a wall, but she didn’t know because she didn’t have the strength to open her eyes right now. Gentle candlelight danced across the room. She couldn’t see the actual candle but she could see its subtle flickering light even with her eyes shut. The room was relatively warm, and permeated with the smell of roses and honeysuckle, unlike the unpleasant sent of alcohol and sweat that perfumed the town of New Vegas. She wiggled her fingers and winced when a cramp shot down her arms. Her hands were tied up over her head, her feet were bound together, but she could still move them off of the bed she was lying on. Why would Monroe have tied her to a bed? 

“She would have screamed if I hadn’t!” The voice of a man (a man who certainly wasn’t Monroe) shot back defensively. 

The woman snorted, “Then let ‘er scream! In this town, screams are like gunshots before the blackout, you don’t go runnin’ towards ‘em.” That voice sounded familiar but Charlie couldn’t place it. The headboard that she was tied to thumped against the wall as she feebly tried to pull free, to no avail.

“You heard that right?” Asked the man in a loud whisper.

The woman sighed just as loudly, “’Course I heard it. She’s just gettin’ up, that’s all. Next time, you take the money I give you and buy the drugs from the apothecary in Colorado Springs. I didn’t send you up there t’ drink my money away. If you’d have paralyzed her, what the hell would I’ve done then?”

A door creaked open, and Charlie could hear footsteps coming her way. She refused to open her eyes though.

 

Inside the room, the man’s voice boomed loudly, “I’m sure there’s some sort of market for that. Remember that one guy that paid for Justine’s body—”

“Shut’cher mouth.” The woman snipped. Charlie felt the bed dip down beside her, and a warm, curved hip pressed against her own. 

“I know you’re awake sweetness.” The woman cooed, running a hand along Charlie’s upper thigh. Where was Monroe? Charlie had a feeling she’d have been much better off as his captive than she was here. Slowly, Charlotte opened her eyes to see her captors, trying to remain as calm as possible. Miles had always told her not to get emotional… that’s what she needed to do now. Stay calm and emotionless. Miles wasn’t coming for her and if she didn’t keep a cool head there was no hope of escape.

Charlie recognized the beautiful, full figured woman in a split second. It was the woman Monroe had been talking to earlier today! Her dark brown hair was pulled into a fabulous up do, gleaming in the low lamp light. She was still wearing that same corset, black with blood red pinstripes and identically colored lace around the bottom. It was tied so tight that the woman’s breasts were practically spilling out of the device and Charlie had to make an effort not to stare at the deep crease and plump curves of the woman’s fully exposed cleavage. Charlie blinked rapidly for a few seconds and looked up at the woman’s face. For some reason, she was smiling down at Charlie, her thick, red painted lips pulled back in a big, sweet smile, but her eyes were narrowed like a hungry cat about to pounce.

“There’s my pretty girl. That’s it, rise and shine sweetness.” The woman glanced back over her shoulder and beamed at the man, “Damn, look at them eyes. Where’d you say you found ‘er?”

“West end of town. I was going to see if Roxie was done over at Jimmy’s, tell her she better not hang around after for long cause she’s got other clients tonight. She was lookin’ in windows. My guess is for something to steal.” The man explained. Were they seriously just talking about her like she wasn’t there? Charlie grunted in protest, but it sounded more like a groan of pain.

“Well then, sweetness, don’t worry,” The brunette crooned, “You won’ have t’ do any of that now. Miss Lila’s girls don’t want for nothin’. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not a thief,” Charlie hissed slowly, “And I can take care of myself.”

Miss Lila chuckled and perked up a thinly plucked brow, “I’d keep your tongue waggin’ to a minimum sweetness. Doesn’t matter what you were before you came in here,” She leaned in close, her breasts pressing against Charlie’s stomach, “Cause you’re one of mine now.”

Charlie felt her eyes grow wide despite herself, and her breath hitched in the throat. “I’m not a—“

“Fetch ‘er some water. Get her fed if she’ll eat a bite of somethin’.” Lila ordered, completely ignoring Charlie’s protests. The brunette rose gracefully from the side of the bed and sauntered over to the door way.

“Want me to work her a bit? Get her started?” The man asked, his eyes sparkling with malicious intent. 

“Strip ‘er down, tie ‘er legs open, and give ‘er a blanket, but you keep your hands t’ yourself. I’ll do it myself tomorrow night.” She ordered sternly.

He sighed in disappointment, “And if she screams?” 

Miss Lila shrugged and turned her back, “Gag ‘er up.”

Charlie shivered furiously beneath the thin, itchy wool blanket that had been tossed over her. Her parched tongue wiggled against the dry cloth gag in her mouth, trying to find a comfortable position where she wasn’t half choking to death. Her arms and legs ached; her wrists throbbed where the skin had been rubbed raw from the coarse ropes, and her head was throbbing painfully. She couldn’t believe this. She’d imagined a million terrible things that could happen to her, but being captured and forced into prostitution had never been one of them. Back in the Republic she’d had to worry about being conscripted or killed, or even raped, but not kept as a slave. And that is what Miss Lila was wanting, wasn’t it? 

The man, who later introduced himself as ‘Big Ed’, had force fed her, and took his time pulling her clothes off last night. When she spit in his face, he put the gag in her mouth and when she tried to kick him, he smacked her bare ass a few times with his rough, calloused hand. She’d tried not to cry, but once Ed left the room, it was useless. She’d wept for hours, until she passed out and drifted into a fitful sleep.

The door swung open for the first time since Ed left, and Charlie heard the distinctive, clicking of Miss Lila’s heels against the barren wood floor. The brunette set a big bucket of water on the bed side table, and Charlie shuddered at the sight of the steam rising over the rim. She had a pretty good idea of what Lila’s intention was. 

“You’re frozen t’ the bone.” She tsked moodily, pursing her thick lips as she wetted the cloth, “He’s such an idiot. Now this’ll probably burn like the devil… and that’s no way t’ get in the mood is it?” 

Charlie stared blankly up at her captor. It was useless to fight these bonds, and it hurt too, but she still jerked when Lila wetted the cloth and touched the scalding water to her skin. Charlie snarled in furious protest, jerking against the ropes that held her in place. Everything hurt; absolutely every single bit of her.

“Shhh now sweetness. You’ll warm up.” Lila said gently, her expression mimicking that of pity, though Charlie doubted her sincerity. The madam’s hands were unpleasantly warm and wet against her cold, clammy skin, though their plump ridges of fat made her iron clad grip a bit softer. Miss Lila wasn’t disgustingly obese or anything like that, just full and round, without the corset, she probably would have had a body like a rectangle; broad in the shoulders, broad in the hips, and full figured in between. Her green eyes were like hooded emeralds, accentuated by a heavy dusking of soot on her eyelids. She wore a necklace of scattered pearls tied up in transparent wiring (something that was most certainly a pre-blackout creation) and tattered silver chopsticks in her hair to hold it in place. Her appearance was confusing to Charlie. Rich and prostitute weren’t words that went together in the Monroe Republic. The rich women were the prim and proper wives of militia officers, and in that society, if you were going to show that much skin, you may as well be spreading your legs for the whole world to see. Sure the prostitutes of the Republic did their best to fancy up and look nice, but they most certainly weren’t wearing pearls and silver. 

The madam reached for her blanket and carelessly tossed it onto the floor by the bed. The cloth made an unattractive sloshing sound as it was dunked back into the steaming water and splattered and dripped as it was rung out over the surface. Lila started with her neck, working in firm, diligent strokes that burned uncomfortably. With her free hand she held the skin taught so she could scrub the layers of grime off more efficiently. Whether it was from the heat of the cloth, or the indignation of the entire scenario, Charlie felt her body slowly warm back up. The pale, blue-ish color that her skin had taken on over the past few hours was replaced with a healthy pink blush. After a few firm caresses, the sting of the water faded away and Charlie almost welcomed the warmth on her neck. The only thing that kept her from enjoying the sensation was the knowledge of where she was and what was happening.

“Good gracious sugar. When was the last time you boiled some water and scrubbed this ick off?” Lila lilted in disapproval, but smiled all the while. Charlie was guessing that the woman didn’t actually want an answer, seeing as she made no move to pull the gag from her mouth. 

Charlie’s struggles began anew when she felt a pudgy hand wrap around her breast gently. She screamed against the gag as the cloth rolled over her hardened nipple and up to the top of her breast. Lila shushed her and continued her work despite Charlie’s infuriated shouting. Her teeth sunk into the gag and grinded against the cloth furiously with every stroke. The madam finished and moved onto the next one, and Charlotte suppressed the urge to vomit when Lila moaned a bit. 

“You really are a lovely lil’ thing once you clean off all that dirt.” She complimented. After what felt like an eternity of rough cloth on her tender breasts, Lila moved on to the stomach. Charlie hadn’t realized just how filthy she was until she looked down at her clean skin. Since the tower, things like that just weren’t important. Nothing had been important since the tower. It wasn’t really important now, but she noticed it all the same, perhaps in an attempt to keep her mind off the fact that she was being molested and cleaned up so that she could be sold out for sex. It didn’t work for long though. Charlie’s thoughts drifted back to the horrible reality of Lila’s cleaning and the disgusting feeling of almost enjoying it. If it were any other situation, if she weren’t unwilling and tied up tighter than a bow in an old bed, then this might have actually felt… good. Charlie choked back the tears. How could she even think of something like that? 

“Can’t believe ol’ Ed found somethin’ like you just out on the streets.” The madam crooned, watching Charlie’s emotional turmoil reflect in her eyes. Lila frowned and stood up, temporarily abandoning her work, and walking out of the room. It didn’t take long for her to return with a dented tea kettle and a small tin mug with a handle. 

“Now, I’m gonna take the gag out, and you’re going to take a sip of tea. If you’re nasty t’ me, I’ll have Ed pry that pretty jaw open and I’ll dump the whole damn cup down your throat… and trust me sweetness, this is hot as hell.” Lila warned, gracefully pouring the tea into the tin cup. She gently tugged the gag out from between Charlie’s lips and waited to see if the blonde was going to scream. When Charlotte stayed silent, the madam smiled and lifted the tea to her lips. It was warm and bitter on her tongue and she almost spat it out, but thought better of it. Lila pulled the cup back and waited a moment, before repeating the process four or five more times. Charlie let out a soft groan and tried to shake her head in refusal, but things were starting to feel… fuzzy. She felt her control on her own body slipping, and even realized that she’d begun to smile at one point. The bitch had drugged her.

“Used to be, you had to get to Mexico for shit like this. Now they grow it in Texas.” Charlie heard Lila say, but it sounded funny. It didn’t sound… real. She felt herself laugh, even though there was nothing to laugh at. She couldn’t stop laughing either. Why did this feel so… fantastic? She heard Lila chuckle, like Buggs Bunny used to do in those picture shows before the blackout. “I think that’ll do you well enough for now.” The madam said.

Charlie felt hands on her legs, and there was that damn cloth again, but she didn’t care. There were so many more interesting things going on right now. It was like she was really in touch with the world around her for the first time. She could feel the trees that made up the headboard, she could understand them. She could understand herself for the first time in a long time. Was this what it felt like to not be angry? All these months spent being angry at Monroe or her mom, all this time missing Danny, it was all wasted hours. Why had it taken her this long to let it go? There was a whole world out there, a whole universe according to Aaron, and she was spending her time doing nothing productive with her life! Nothing that mattered. 

She felt Lila’s firm hand against her most intimate of areas and a stab of fear touched her for just a second. Charlie cried out, even though she didn’t want herself to. She didn’t want Lila to ruin this beautiful moment by distracting her. She was understanding, even remembering things, that she never thought she could. Lila’s fingers probed against the cool dry slit of her sex, pushing in between the lips slowly. The sensation was like one Charlie had never felt before. She trembled and felt her hips move without her approval. It felt… good. Not like when that bartender had touched her. That had been rough and wild and passionate. This was slow, slow as the tide lapping at the ocean shore, and every bit as powerful. Another hand reached up to cup her breast, and suddenly Lila’s lovely face loomed over her own.

Fingers wrapped around her tight pink nipple and twisted, and Lila demanded that Charlie kiss her… and she did. She wasn’t sure why… but she did. She didn’t feel like she was really kissing Lila at all, in fact she wasn’t sure that absolutely anything was real anymore. The fingers probing at her pussy pressed in and Charlie gasped loudly against the soft, supple lips of her captor. It started out with just one, but as she got wetter, Lila dipped in a second, and Charlie screamed when she added a third. Not out of pain or frustration or fear… it was like that scream she’d heard coming from Monroe’s trailer, that of ecstasy. 

Lila’s tongue slipped past Charlie’s lips and explored her mouth, but Charlie wasn’t thinking about Lila at all. She was thinking about Jason—feeling Jason’s hands on her. Was this what it would feel like with him? Gentle and slow with a beautiful, twisting pleasure slowly building inside of her. Why hadn’t they ever done this? She supposed it was because they were always hunting Monroe… Monroe. Charlie felt herself moan and she hated herself for it. But suddenly it was him, not Jason, and not Lila. It was Monroe touching her, staring down with his cold blue eyes, smirking at her confidently as she moaned. She growled in frustration as a hand stroked the side of her head reassuringly. 

“Come back to me sweetness.” Lila sang somewhere out there, before coming back into focus. It was like she’d never saw Monroe, or Jason, just Lila. The pressure in her gut was getting stronger by the second, and Charlie moaned louder and louder. She wanted it to stop. Stop stop stop… but keep going. Yes! Faster. Lila’s experienced fingers dipping in and out of her sex, and her thumb rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her swollen pink folds. Her hips began to buck up eagerly against her captor, and she kissed her again. She screamed loudly and felt her body go ridgid and tense, stars erupted behind her eyelids and everything seemed to twist and pull and press at her.

Lila pecked her on the cheek, bundled her in covers, and left her like that. Panting for air in the cold, dark room of the whore house. She wasn’t gagged… but Charlie didn’t scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naming the bad guy (or girl) in the story Lila is really cathartic, because my ex-girlfriend Delilah was a total bitch. Also how the fuck do I italicize stuff on this sight? I can't write without and italics button.


	3. Death at the Whorehouse

 

Lila says it’s been two weeks since the day they brought her here but Charlie isn’t sure. It isn’t like Lila has proven to be the most honest and reliable person she’d ever met. So far, no one had touched her besides Lila, and on occasion Ed when he was washing her off or giving her food. Other than that though, she hadn’t been sold out to any clients… until today.

 

After the first week, her captors exchanged her tight ropes to a lose chain, bolted down in the middle of the room. Charlie had considered trying to attack them for a while, but then she realized that was a stupid idea. If she betrayed their growing trust now, not only would it impede her escape attempts later, but it would also mean being tied up again, and being tied up again meant waiting for Ed to come around with a bucket for her to relieve herself in. It wasn’t like he got off on the sight, he didn’t seem any happier about watching her piss into a bucket than she was about actually doing it in front of him. It was the humiliation of it all that broke her… and the helplessness. Being washed, being wiped by another human being like an invalid and spoon fed like a baby was the most degrading experience of her life. It was adding insult to injury. Not only were they raping her, they were stripping her of the most basic freedoms. She’d been so thankful when they’d taken her ropes off, she’d actually thanked them before she could stop herself.

 

The sex had stayed consistent since the night after she arrived. As soon as the sun went down, Miss Lila unlocked Charlie’s door and strolled through. The first night after her restraints were removed, Charlotte refused to lie down and spread her legs for the madam, and she sorely regretted that decision. The cruel brunette went and got a horse crop out of the stable and whipped her mercilessly. By the time Charlie had given up, Lila had a few bruises and scratch marks, but Charlie was covered in large, ugly welts, in many places (especially on her back), the skin split and blood poured out of the cuts. Lila had raped her anyway, returning to her sweet, “loving” demeanor as soon as Charlie became complaint.

 

Surprisingly as brutal and dangerous as the madam could be, sex (rape), was actually gentle and Charlie _always_ had an orgasm. Faking it just didn’t suit the big beautiful brunette; neither would she be persuaded to leave after Charlie had gotten her off. If Lila was nothing else, she was patient beyond all belief. She’d spend hours working her fingers in and out of Charlotte’s sex if that is what it took to force the blonde to let go, and begin to enjoy the activity. What Lila really wanted, was for Charlie to _want_ to be a prostitute and to _enjoy_ her new job. She’d stopped giving her drugs after the first couple of rapes. As the days ticked on, Charlie understood the women of New Vegas more and more. They’d been taught to do this job, and taught to love it, so much that even when they had the freedom to run, they simply went to work. It made her sick that she’d ever envied their beauty or romanticized what they did.  

 

Today, Lila had dressed her in a short red dress and led her to the main office, where the madam “conducted business”. So far she’d done nothing but sit in a chair in the corner, hoping that if she stayed quiet, no one would notice her.

 

Lila caught her eye and perked up her brow, “It’s nothin’ to pout over sweetness.” Charlie watched as the brunette stood from her desk and walked over to a large cabinet and pulled out a large jar filled with a murky liquid. With an old eyedropper, Lila deposited some of the substance into a cup of water. Charlie knew exactly what this was going to lead to, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it or not. She did know that there was no way she was going to let some random man fuck her if she was sober, and that if she refused it would lead to a hell of a lot of pain. Reluctantly, Charlie took the cup, but didn’t begin drinking.

 

A loud knock on the door made both women jump. Lila settled back down at her desk and mumbled for Charlie to sit up straight.

 

“Come on in!” The madam called out and Charlie gripped the cup tighter than before. She just couldn’t make herself drink it… but she didn’t want to do this either. Charlotte glared down at the liquid as it trembled in the cup, her hands were shaking terribly, and she felt like she was going to burst into tears… but she buried the emotion. She thought of her mother, who was strong and pragmatic. Rachel could make her face blank and vacant quite easily, so Charlie should be able to mimic her mother if she could just focus. The door jerked open and Charlie could hear footsteps thumping towards the middle of the room.

 

“Oh… Jimmy!” Lila exclaimed in a loud, nervous tone. Charlie felt her entire body go numb with fear and her back went straight as a board. There was more than one Jimmy in New Vegas right? Please let there be more than one Jimmy in this God forsaken town “I can’t talk right now Jim. Got a client coming for a—”

 

“I told you I wasn’t going to fight that guy again.” Monroe’s deep, throaty tone cut in. Charlie groaned to herself and tried to sink further back into the chair. Could she have any worse luck? At least _he_ wasn’t her client. Charlie kept her head down, doing her best to cover her face with her hair. He must have been too wrapped up in his conversation to notice her, so that was something. He continued, “He’s way too small.”

 

“Then kill him… but he paid to enter, so you’ll fight him. What did I say about slouching sweetness?” Lila snipped, turning her attention towards Charlie mid-conversation. Charlie was positive that her heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Lila was expecting her to look up… at him. What would he do when he saw her? Kill her? Laugh at her? Buy some time with her? She felt sick to her stomach… but raised her head up and glared in his direction.

 

Monroe actually wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at Lila in protest and shaking his head. He glanced, just for a split second, over in her direction before looking back at Lila but after a few seconds she saw his back go tense and he did a double take, staring over at her. Charlie was sure she’d actually _die_ from embarrassment. Slowly, methodically, he turned her way and stepped closer. His boot made a loud, resounding “thump” against the wooden floor, causing her to jump.

 

“Charlotte.” She heard him mutter beneath his breath. His tongue reached out to wet his cracked lips, licking off a small smear of dried blood. Charlie couldn’t read his expression. He was hiding something, keeping his emotions masked with a harsh glare. Monroe was staring her down as if she were his opponent in the fighting ring. She sat stark still, afraid to move even an inch. If a hair on her head swayed in the breeze from the open window, she was sure it’d be all over. The image of his fist colliding with that man’s skull on the first night played over and over again in her mind. The smell of sweat and alcohol came to her as well. It was such a different sent than that of Miss Lila’s. Charlie was surprised she could even remember it. She could hear the noise of the snapping noses and cracking bones that he’d broken in the ring… but as his breath hitched and he rolled back his shoulders, she heard the low throaty groans coming out of his trailer, and the screams of his companion. She started to shake, tightening her grip on the cup and lifting it and inch or so off her lap and towards her trembling lips.

 

“She’s still a little too spirited for you Jim.” Lila said cautiously, she must have felt the tension in the air too. His intense stare left her and focused in on the madam. Finally, Charlie let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and began to blink rapidly. Her heart was racing; thumping like a jackrabbit. Lila rolled a pearl between her long, chunky fingers and tried to muster up a smile, “Still learning the tricks of the trade.”

 

Monroe shook his head. Charlie didn’t think it was possible, but he found a way to stand up straighter and seem even more imposing. He walked around Lila’s desk and rested half of his ass on the splintered old wood, draping his forearm over his bent knee and leaning forward ever so slightly. Lila was completely entranced. Her green eyes were wide and lust-filled as they scanned his toned upper body beneath his shirt. She swayed towards him with a sly smile and Monroe smirked in return. The scene was both sensual and terrifying. Charlie knew from experience just how quickly Monroe could shift his hand and go from gentleman to cold blooded killer. But at the same time he oozed confidence. He was flaunting his rough sexuality in front of Lila’s face… and the madam couldn’t refuse.

 

“I can make you much happier,” She whispered, so quietly Charlie almost didn’t hear.

 

Monroe grunted, backing up just a hair and tilting his head, “Is that so?”

 

“Mhmm.” Lila mumbled, running her hand up from his knee to his crotch, “I know what you want.”

 

“And you’ll give it to me; won’t you?” His dirt encrusted fingers reached up to brush a stray curl behind her ear and then cup her jaw. Charlie felt her mouth go dry. She couldn’t look away. She wanted to, but even without the drugs… she just couldn’t. Lila nodded compliantly and shoved some of the trinkets and perfume bottles to the side of the desk so that Monroe could take a seat. When he was fully seated on the edge, legs splayed open carelessly; Lila scooted up to sit between his thighs. Her eyes left his for only a second, flicking down to his crotch, as her hands fumbled with his pants.

 

“Anything you want sugar.” She said softly, causing Monroe to chuckle.

 

**“I want her.”**

 

Lila froze at those words, her head snapping over towards Charlie. She was just about to open her mouth to protest when Monroe struck. His hand came out in the flash and wrapped around her neck. She tried to scream, but no air came out.

 

“Don’t move Charlotte.” He commanded, putting a finger to his lips to silence the angry, frightened tirade that nearly came out of her mouth. Lila sputtered and struggled in his grasp, but Monroe held her effortlessly. His eyes locked on to Charlie’s and she froze, unable to move or escape him. With one final grunt he jerked the pearls off of Lila’s neck and shoved them into his pocket as her lifeless body landed on the ground with a thud.

 

For a minute they both just stared at each other. Charlie sat ramrod straight; her back was so tense and stiff that it ached painfully. Her welts throbbed beneath the fabric of her dress, almost in synch with her rapidly pounding heart. He, on the other hand, was slouched over casually, breathing slow, steady breaths. His eyes were dark and dangerous. The former general just stared, still perched on the desk. He made no move to attack.

 

He must have seen her flinch, or some tiny indicator that she was about to stand to her feet and bolt, because in a heartbeat, Monroe practically dove across the room and seized hold of Charlie’s shoulders before she could get up. The cup fell to the ground with a loud ‘clang’ and its contents seeped out all over the floor. His shadow loomed over her in the candlelight, consuming everything else in her field of vision. It was almost like by being this close to him, she was a part of him. He was all she saw, all she smelled, all she heard and felt. She could practically taste the sweat and dirt of his brow. There was no light beneath him. His shadow was large and… heavy. How silly it was to imagine that a silhouette had actual weight, crushing weight—no, not imagine, this was very real…  She _could_ feel it. It pressed down on her and smothered the screams that wanted to spill from her throat. She swiftly kicked at his knees and jerked backwards but the chair did not give, and neither did he. The more she struggled, the angrier his expression became; the tighter his dark shadow curled around her and squeezed.

 

“Charlotte.” He said as calmly as he could, but it fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs were a trembling mess, feebly knocking against him. “Charlotte.” Monroe repeated, with an edge of frustration. Still, she did her best to try and hurt him. He caught her fist as it flew for his face, he used his own leg to pin hers against the chair, his hand held her shoulder with a vice. There was nothing she could do… “Damn it kid don’t make me knock you out.” And she was certain that his threat was not an empty one.

 

“Don’t touch me!” She snarled wildly, but Monroe only shook his head. She didn’t want his shadow, or his smell, or especially not his hands on her.

 

“I’m not trying to hurt you Charlotte. You’re going to walk out with me,” He said in a low, demanding tone, one that made her freeze and sent a shiver down her spine. Monroe firmly pulled her up and tugged her against his chest wrapping his arm around her waist, “Just like this. You’re going to smile, and most importantly, you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“You’re _insane_! Get off me you prick.” She snapped, pounding her fists against his chest. In an instant he slammed her back against the wall, causing her to wince and nearly scream in pain. Many of those whip marks weren’t completely healed yet, and she was still bruised all over. His body pressed up against hers so tightly that it was getting hard for her to breathe. Every time her soft, curved chest expanded for air, it ran straight in to the hard, flat surface of his upper body. She felt her knees wobble and gulped. This was wrong. She needed him to get away from her. Charlie looked away, her eyes unable to take the intense heat of his stare, and instead focused on the floor.

 

“You might just be right about that… but you’re still going to do what I tell you to.” He growled, keeping his voice quiet. Charlie tried to knee him between the legs, but she could hardly move. He was just too close.

 

“Why the _hell_ would I do that?!” She hissed viciously.

 

Monroe let out a long exasperated sigh, “Because without me, you’ve got no chance of getting out of here kid, and what do you think they’ll do to you if you’re found in here with that.” His thumb jabbed over his shoulder in the direction of Lila’s warm, lifeless body. He was right. Granted they didn’t kill her, they’d at the very least keep her here… but was going with Monroe any better? At least with him she might have a chance of escape. Miles did say “Bass” had a drinking problem. Begrudgingly, Charlie wrapped her arms around him and let him pull her close as he casually threw open the door and slipped out.

 

Charlie kept her eyes focused on him as they made their way through the small, sparsely populated lobby, “Why did you do it?”

 

“Shut up.” He mumbled, smirking down at her and using his free hand to open the door to the outside. They walked as briskly as possible without looking suspicious, all the way back to the trailer, where both of them immediately dropped the act. Charlie shoved herself away from him as he turned around to slam the door of the trailer shut. Monroe scowled at her and turned to a set of small drawers.

 

“I can’t believe this,” He snarled under his breath, shaking his head furiously as he fumbled through the tattered and filthy garments. Charlie mutely caught a shirt that he threw her way. For a second he glanced over his shoulder and looked her up and down, “Take your clothes off.”

 

Charlie’s eyes darted toward the door. Was he really going to rape her? He was sick, sure, but rape? Had he done the same thing to her mother? Her thoughts were racing; she felt queasy. At least at Lila’s it hadn’t been personal. This just felt wrong on a number of levels. The trailer was so small; Monroe was practically standing right by the door, blocking all chance of escape. She heard him let out an annoyed grunt before whirling around to face her. In one hand he had a tiny jar, in the other, a pair of men’s shorts.

 

“I’m **_not_** going to have sex with you!” She exclaimed furiously, taking a small step back.

 

Monroe only chuckled bitterly before glaring at her once again, “You flinched.”

 

“What?”

 

“You flinched when I put my arm around you back there and you nearly screamed when I shoved you against the wall.” He said dryly, lifting a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “We don’t have a lot of time to get out of town. You can go back to hating me once we’re outside of the city. For now, take off your clothes.”

 

Charlie stared at his taught, angry expression and fumbled with the hem of the short dress she was wearing. There was nothing she wanted less in this world than to let the man who murdered her brother see her naked. His blue eyes set a chill down her spine, and Charlie shivered anxiously. Monroe growled under his breath and turned back to the drawers, pulling out a travel pack that was already full to the brim.

 

“Fine. But if you slow me down kid...” Monroe warned as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

 

Charlie let out an indignant laugh, “I’m not going anywhere with y—” With two large steps Monroe closed the distance between them, his chest hovering centimeters from her own, his face only inches away from hers. He took hold of her arm in with a dangerously tight grip. It wasn’t painful, not yet, but she was sure that if she pulled away, his fingers would clamp down like a dog’s mouth. Her stomach flipped. Was it from nervousness or excitement? It’d done the same thing in the office. Her head was getting fuzzy again… she needed him to get away from her. But at the same time… she wasn’t sure she really wanted him to. He was so much like Miles, yet so different. Monroe was unhinged… and dangerous. Any second, any _thing_ could snap the thread of his tightly stretched patience. He reeked of booze. Not just the stale, lingering sent of drinks past. No, he was covered in the smell, and it was almost nice. Something about the overpowering sent matched his personality. Everything about him was just too much. Just looking at him sent her spinning with anger, disgust, frustration, and… she didn’t want to think about it. Charlie put the shirt on and winced as she rolled up the dress to her hips, simultaneously tugging the shorts on. The added bulk of the dress bunched up around her waist helped to keep the shorts from falling off of her but they were still too big. She’d still have to hold them if she had to run… and she had the distinct feeling she’d be doing a lot of running tonight.

 

Monroe turned on a dime, still holding fast to her arm. He used his foot to kick open the door and at the last second, slipped his hand into a crease in the wall and pulled out a pistol, which he then shoved into his pants. By some stroke of luck, it didn’t seem like anyone knew Lila was dead yet, and if they did, they hadn’t yet connected it to Monroe. No one was shouting or chasing after them… or trying to blow their heads off. The sky was black above them, absent of even a single star. Charlie tried to focus on seeing a twinkling, just one glimmer of light in the blackness, instead of paying any attention to where she was going. Monroe was pretty much walking for her at this point, zipping through back alleys and closer to the city’s boarder.

 

For now, she would stay silent. She’d let him pull her along because she had no other choice, but the first chance she got, she’d be stealing that gun and putting a bullet into this bastard’s brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last chapter is probably going to be long as shit because it is essentially the meat of the entire story... oh yeah and the sex scene.


	4. I Hate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah, I should never try and guess how long a story is going to be. Even short stories with me turn out excessively long. But oh well, here is your sex scene... sort of. There will be one more in the final chapter, a proper one if you will. I'm posting this now, because I kind of said I'd update this weekend. I've tried to proof read it, but most likely I'll have to re-read tomorrow and correct mistakes. Until then, just bare with me. I'm sleepy XP
> 
> Um... so apparently like a third or more of my flashback didn't post yesterday. Not sure if it was my mistake or a problem with uploading. Whatever... enjoy the extra three sentences of context.

 

_“Hey kiddo!” Shouted an enthusiastic Miles as he threw open the door to his brother’s house without knocking. Sure enough the little toe headed four year old bolted down the hallway, squealing at the top of her lungs._

_“Unc Miles! Unc Miles!” she cheered as he bent to pick her up and toss her in the air. Rachel appeared at the end of the hall, shaking her head and slowly making her way towards them._

_“Happy Fanks-gibbing!” Said the four year old, hugging her uncle tightly._

_“Happy Thanksgiving.” He said with a gruff chuckle, “Hey, do you remember Bass?” Miles jerked his head to the side as his best friend stepped up behind him in the door way. Miles spun around dramatically and set Charlie on the ground so she was facing Sebastian, freeing him to turn and greet Rachel._

_Polite as ever, Bass knelt to the ground and stuck out his hand, “Pleasure to meet you Charlotte.”_

 

_Charlie’s looked up to her uncle and tugged his leg; her little hand coming up to partially cover her mouth as if she were telling a secret. “Wo-mer-izer.” She said in the dramatic exasperated tone of a child who thinks they know exactly what they’re talking about. Despite the hand motion, Charlie made no move to actually lower her voice._

_Bass perked up his eyebrow and looked over Charlie’s shoulder towards Rachel, whose eyes went wide as saucers. The tall blonde woman mustered up her best smile as her face turned red._

 

_“What was that?” Bass asked with a good hearted laugh._

_The little girl placed her hands on her hips and gave him a firm stare. “Mommy says, Sa-bass-un, the wo-mer-izer.” Then her expression changed to one of self doubt and confusion, “Mommy never says what it means.”_

_“Charlie!” Rachel scolded, sounding completely mortified. Bass tried to cough to disguise his laughter and threw an arm around Charlie’s shoulders._

 

_“It means,” He whispered, leaning in close and winking slyly, “That aaaaaall of the girls fall in love with him.” Bass puckered his lips and made loud kissing sounds._

_“Ewwww!” Charlie said with a scrunched up face and a loud giggle as she turned to cling on to Miles’ leg._

 

_Bass just chuckled again, ruffling her hair as he walked into the house to give Rachel a one-armed hug. “Look out Charlotte, Sabassun might just make you fall in love with him too.” Bass warned with a dashing, playful grin, and Charlie hid behind her uncle’s leg, giggling all the while._

 

* * *

 

 

Aaron said, on multiple occasions, that Miles raises “dickish-ness” to an art form… but he’s never spent any time with Sebastian Monroe. Every time Charlie had the misfortune of being in his presence before, he’d acted civil and gentlemanly… and she supposed he still did in some ways. He still called her “Charlotte” whenever he addressed her, he never shouted at her, he stayed a respectful distance away from her at all times, and unlike Adam or most men for that matter, Monroe’s eyes never lingered on her ass or breasts for too long. But in absolutely all other ways, he was the most insufferable human being she’d ever met in her life.

 

They’d been together for over a week now… and not willingly. After their initial escape from New Vegas (which had involved a ten mile run without rest and the murder of Ed and another man who tracked them down) Monroe had given her a “choice”. Her options were to either lead the way to where Miles and Rachel were, or in layman’s terms, he would keep her hostage, dragging her from town to town with him until she cracked and gave up her family’s location. She’d lasted about half a day being dragged behind him (he’d bound her hands and taken her out into the desert) until she told him how to get to Willoughby. And threatening to keep her hostage was only item number one on her new reasons to hate Monroe.

 

Second was just how he went about doing… everything. She’d compared him to a lion, or a wolf, or some other terrible beast many times before but now that she’d spent time with him it was clear to see exactly what he was; a great, malevolent owl. He moved silently, proficiently, and never without purpose. There was no doubt in her mind that the only thing he was really good at, was killing, and every step he took, was like a quiet wing-beat; carrying him closer to his next kill. His words to her were few and far between, and whatever he did say was cordial and necessary. She could berate him with all of her bitter, sarcastic barbs as much as she pleased, but he wouldn’t speak. And despite their shocking blue color, his eyes always looked dark and alert. She wasn’t actually sure when he slept. Sure, he rested his eyes, but the second a twig crunched in the distance, he was up and ready to kill. It was just his overall demeanor that disturbed, annoyed, attracted, and even terrified her.

 

Other things on the list were that he was possessive, he never let her talk to anyone on the off chance they stopped for supplies, and he had to have things his way one hundred percent of the time.

 

But all of those things paled in comparison to the worst thing about him… and that was that he was impossibly attractive. Impossible, meaning that no matter how much she hated it or how hard she tried to change it; she was captivated by him. She didn’t want anything about him to be interesting but everything was. Even a short glance in his direction sent her reeling with questions and thoughts that were better off locked away in the recesses of her mind. Why was he doing this? Was he going to try and hurt Miles, or more importantly, her mother (At least Miles could defend himself)? Could he make his eyes water like that whenever he wanted? Was he trying to get her sympathy? Worse than the questions were the thoughts and the feelings that came along with them. She hated admitting it, loathed it actually, but she’d thought far too much about his brutal hands and how they’d feel on her flesh, or she’d see that dark, dangerous stare that he watched her with when she was enveloped in dreams. And any time her eyes lingered too long, or her thoughts went astray, that uncomfortable throb in her pants would beg her to reach out and touch him.

 

That was precisely what was happening tonight. She sat with her legs crossed tightly; waiting for Monroe to give the order that it was time to go.  They always traveled at night. The mid-summer heat during the day was absolutely brutal and they both agreed that it was better this way… but he wasn’t shoving things into his pack and scanning the perimeter for danger tonight. He was staring at her, as if he knew something was about to happen and she didn’t. His shoulders were rigid beneath the thin, tattered cotton of his shirt and his jaw kept clenching and unclenching. For a while he’d stare at her, and then he’d look away, jaw clench, exasperated sigh, and then repeat the process. It’d been going on since she woke up at sunset, and now the night was in full swing. Not only were they wasting precious hours of travel time, he was starting to really unnerve her. Her stomach was in knots, her palms were sweating, and she couldn’t quit biting her lip. The longer he kept this strange ritual going, that nastier she got… and the more flustered. Nothing she did could shake him either. There wasn’t a death glare or sharp word in her arsenal of insults fierce enough to make him look away until he was damn well ready.

 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he rolled his shoulders and sat up; straight and square. It was like he was preparing himself for battle and her body mirrored his completely; tense and rigid.

 

The former general quietly cleared his throat, “How’s your back?” Charlie blinked slowly and took a deep breath. Her eyebrows pulled downward in an involuntary scowl before he even finished speaking. She hadn’t been expecting that to come out of his mouth. It’d have been much easier for her to take if he’d have said ‘I’m tired of you and I’m going to murder you now’ or something along those lines. That was something she’d been expecting him to say all along, especially since she wasn’t making anything too easy on him. This question was considerably more difficult to answer, because it was uncomfortable.

 

The whip marks should have closed up by now. She spent enough time with Maggie smearing goop on cuts and scraped knees to know when a wound wasn’t healing correctly. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been so physically active and they just kept reopening, maybe it was the fact that she was completely filthy and they were getting infected, or maybe a bit of both… but the long, shallow scratches just weren’t healing over. Her back was hot and throbbed uncomfortably. The flesh was tender and raw and when the hem of her jeans scrapped her lower back she wanted to groan in pain.

 

“I’m fine.” She lied, glaring darkly in his direction. She was starting to get a really good idea of why he was preparing himself so well for this. Monroe wasn’t a patient man, she’d learned that almost instantly, and he’d needed all that time to gain full control of his temper.

 

“Charlotte,” He started slowly, rubbing his hands against his pants, “At least take off your shirt.”

 

She couldn’t help it, a shiver went down her spine and a cruel little voice screamed in her head that her shirt wasn’t what she really wanted to take off. Charlie tried to smother the annoying chatter of her deprived libido with her pride, and the thoughts of all of the horrible things she’d seen him do. _‘He captured her mother, he killed Danny, he killed millions of people, you’ve seen him kill with his bare hands…’_ She told herself, but it wasn’t working, in fact that last bit had done quite the opposite. She thought about his hands, strong and brutal. Would he smother the life out of her if he got too close? It was the strangest mixture of feelings. Lust, anger, bitterness, and fear all pounded inside her skull, making her heart race.

 

Monroe stood to his feet; stalking over to the place where she was sitting. “I need to see how bad it is.” He said, and for a second, for the very first time, his whole demeanor changed. It nearly took her breath away too. For only a moment, he looked soft and gentle. He was looking at her as though she were fragile and broken… but she was fine… right? She felt fine. Maybe she was a little tired and maybe she had nightmares some nights—well every night actually. Maybe Lila’s face popped up every now again in her thoughts and made her choke back a few tears… but he shouldn’t be looking at her like that. She was fine, or at least she would be. Miles was always fine, so was her mom, and she could be like them if she wanted. The thought occurred to her that maybe he was telling the truth and he actually did want to take her back to her family instead of using her to track them down and kill them. He just looked completely sincere with his wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

 

But quickly as the expression came, it left, and with it went the tentative, emotional thoughts running through her head. Monroe reverted back to the cold hearted, dangerous glower he’d been giving her for a week.

 

“I’m not above forcing you.” He said gravely. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of _that_ either.

 

Charlie shorted and crossed her arms, “ _That_ doesn’t surprise me… my mother probably knows that very well.” She wasn’t sure why she made the insinuation. It just felt like a low blow, and she wanted to hit him low right now… but why? She could lie to herself all she wanted and say it was because of everything he’d done to her and her family, but really it was no more than petty frustration, driven by lust that her pride and bitterness kept her from relieving. Charlie preferred to lie to herself if those were the sort of revelations her mind was going to come up with.

 

She was right about it being a low blow. Monroe had to take another deep breath. She could see his jaw clamped shut and just barely hear the dull scraping sound of his teeth as they gnashed together. Other than that he showed very few signs of his frustration; but it was enough.

 

“I never did anything like _that_ to her… at least not that she didn’t ask for first.”

 

“ **You** **_bastard_!** ” Charlie roared, leaping up towards him with murder in her eyes. He reached out to restrain her but she dodged him, grabbing hold of a large stick near their dying fireplace. His eyebrow perked up and his lips twitched from up in a smirk to down into a frown; like he couldn’t decide if he was genuinely amused or pissed off.

 

“You lying little prick!” Charlie howled. She lunged forward in attack and actually managed to crack the sizeable stick against the former general’s jaw. Blood instantly began to trickle from the small cut hidden in his beard. Monroe took his sweet time wiping it away and Charlie took the opportunity to jump at him a second time. The stick was broken, so she reached for the knife on his belt. Perhaps that was just a little too greedy. She should have been happy with the fact she’d managed to land a good hit on him for the first time.

 

Monroe groaned in agitation, taking her wrist and easily twisting it around until it felt like it would snap clean off. He used this leverage to pull her forward so that his other hand could wrap around shoulder.

 

“Now _this_ I had to do with Rachel quite often.” He mocked; cruelly. Instantly, she could see his eyes flash with regret though Charlie did not know nor care why. She managed to kick the back of his knee and get him a bit off balance, then proceeded to try and heat-butt him… and the last of his patience snapped.

 

Monroe threw her on the ground roughly, grabbing her forearms and sitting his full weight on her hips, straddling her. Charlie screeched in pain and stopped moving, hoping it would help dull the furious stinging in her back.

 

“Damn it! I didn’t want to do that Charlotte.” He said, though it sounded more like reprimand than an honest apology.  With a shake of his head Monroe flipped her over and pinned her down once again. She kicked her heels against his back but it didn’t dissuade him. Her arms were completely useless. Monroe just sat there. She could hear him mumbling numbers to himself, most likely a tactic to regain control of his anger. After another few minutes of bucking her hips against the ground like a stubborn bronco, Charlie let out a scream of frustration and went completely still. Only then did Monroe tentatively reach for the hem of her shirt and pull it up over her head. He didn’t gasp in shock or scold her anymore as the sweat drenched material peeled away to reveal the injuries of her back… and Charlie supposed that meant they weren’t as bad as they felt.

 

“She whipped you more than once.” He sighed. She had (in an effort to get him to shut the hell up) told him about the worst one that had broken her skin open initially. The two other times it’d happened weren’t as extreme and she hadn’t even thought they were worth mentioning. She didn’t really even think of them. Recent as the memories of her minor punishments may be, they were buried under the more violent, painful experiences she’d endured in the last month.

 

“Mostly bruising,” He said, completely to himself, “this one might be infected… this one too. You’ve been scratching them. That’s why they aren’t closing.” Charlie buried her face into the grass and trembled, embarrassed and mortified, as Monroe’s gentle, yet scratchy, callus-covered fingers traced over her skin. She felt his weight shift and her traitorous body shivered in appreciation of the contact. The fact that she didn’t feel his erection hard and ready against her ass seemed like a bit of an insult, and somehow she became even angrier than before.

 

“You were just saying that—about my mom—to piss me off weren’t you?” She snapped.

 

 “Weren’t _you?”_ He countered with a snort of derision. He paused for a long second and Charlie heard the distinct sound of metal scraping against itself alongside the quiet puff of air that left the jar he was apparently opening. Something was swishing around in his mouth before he spit a large mouthful of strong alcohol into the weeds a foot or so from them. Even at this distance, her eyes watered. She was no light weight, but what the fuck was this guy drinking?

 

 “Don’t freak out.” He commanded sternly as he leaned over her back. Charlie felt his hot, wet breath against her wounds. His warm, strong hands grabbed hold of her forearms once more as he supported himself on his elbows. Charlie jumped and squealed when she felt his tongue run over one of the long, poorly healed wounds.

 

“What the hell are you even doing?!” She shouted, uselessly bucking around beneath him.

 

“Trying to clean your wounds. We don’t have the water to spare, and this alcohol would have stung you so bad you wouldn’t have worn a shirt for days.” He explained dryly. Charlie hated him for it… she hated him for making sense and… there was that tongue again. He worked in rough, slow strokes, following the whole cut, repeating the process twice more. The skin tingled as the fleshy organ laved over the surface. She heard him sit back and gargle with the alcohol again… and the night breeze against her moist, exposed flesh made her toes curl. She pressed her legs together tightly and blinked back a couple of shameful tears as he plucked the strap to her bra and exposed her full back to him.

 

“ _Why_ are you doing this?” She moaned. The question was supposed to be a broad one. Why was he helping her at all? But it felt more like she was begging him to stop teasing her. She wanted him to touch her, she welcomed his crushing weight, cloth covered muscles and radiating warmth as he bent back over her… she shouldn’t—but she did.

 

When Monroe didn’t answer, she continued, “I hate you.” She’d been waiting to say those words for a long time now, and as she did she was flooded with relief.

 

Monroe grunted, wiggling his tongue against the split, agitated skin of her back and causing her to moan. The bastard had the audacity to laugh at that.

 

“Say that again.” He demanded roughly, his hips grinding against her backside. That… he did on purpose. He had to have. Charlie felt her body shudder beneath him as he breathed against her back, refusing to move until she complied.

 

“I **_hate_** you!” She snarled; nearly screamed. And she meant it too. Attractive and interesting as he may be, as beautiful and captivating his every move could seem, a large part of her hated him. Physical attraction couldn’t squash her lust for vengeance, and neither could the feelings of gratefulness that came up when she pictured him choking the life out of Lila, or pounding Ed to death with his fists—saving her. He finished licking and suckling on her last cut and stood up, gargling and spitting one last time.

 

In her haste to stand and stare him down, Charlie didn’t even reach for her shirt. Her bra straps had slipped off her shoulders and the old, flimsy garment was practically falling off of her… but she didn’t care. Monroe stood with his shoulders back and straight, his eyes alternated from her face to her breasts. She was almost spiteful that he’d look at her now. He’d never looked at her before. He had been all over her, licking her, touching her, and while she was nearly coming undone in her own pants he wasn’t even hard! She was insulted—furious.    

 

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” She cried, just because she was frustrated, because she could. She’d wanted to say that to him for so long. Every time she imagined saying it to him in her head, he’d wrap his hands around her throat or put a bullet through her brain. She never would have thought they he’d let her say it without reprimand, most certainly not encourage it like he had. Charlie felt wetness between her legs; pressure was building in her gut. She needed some sort of relief and freedom to say whatever she pleased was a good place to start. Ever since she met Miles it was a necessity to control her emotions. She had to keep her mouth shut, hold her tears back, keep walking even when all she wanted was a moment to mourn. _Don’t get emotional._ That was so much easier to do when she lied to herself. If she was honest about how much she missed Danny, how angry she was with her mother… if she was honest about _everything_ she’d break down.

 

“I hate how you just… you just fucking LIVE with yourself. After all of the people you’ve killed, you still have the nerve to be so cold and arrogant.” She snarled viciously, advancing towards Monroe, “You should be miserable! You took my family away from me! You ripped it apart. Then you have the nerve to try and act like my savior?! **_I hate you!_** ”

 

Still, he didn’t go after her. She was amazed by his calm demeanor and emotionless face.

 

“ _Charlotte_ ,” He breathed out quietly, and her whole body shook. She froze like a deer in the forest. They stood at a tense standoff. The question was, would she bolt back into the brush, or would she let him get closer.

 

Monroe took a step forward and whispered her name a second time, “ _Charlotte”_ His voice was so tender but his expression was so dangerous. Those blue eyes mocked her, dared her to come at him… and she wanted to.

 

“What’s all this hate doing for you?” He hissed, closing the small gap between them and pressing his chest against hers. There was no wall behind her this time, no ground to pin her against. She had every opportunity to run and she didn’t. “Does it help?” He mumbled, reaching his hand up and wrapping it around her throat… slowly, gently even. Monroe’s face was so close to hers at this point she had to shut her eyes. She felt the prickle of his beard and a slick streak of blood against her cheek as he went to whisper in her ear. “Answer me Charlotte.” He ordered. That was the same voice he’d once used with her mother. _‘I’m completely and utterly done playing games with you Rachel’_. It had sounded exactly the same, clipped, short… tense, and she was inclined to obey. Her insides were mush at this point, her pulse was thundering erratically.

 

“No.” She said boldly. She wasn’t afraid of him. If he thought this would scare her or…

 

Monroe chuckled. She felt his lips press against the tender skin of her neck. His kissed her once, then twice, and on the third time he began to suckle the flesh in his mouth. This was wrong… but she didn’t stop him. Her body was stark still, arms at her sides. She made no move to neither reciprocate nor discourage him.

 

Monroe pulled back, nudging against her temple with his forehead, “I live with it— _Charlotte_ —by letting it go. By reminding myself that I was dragged into that life by _your uncle._ I live with it because it’s normal. I don’t see you lamenting the lives of the militia soldiers you left in your wake.”

 

Charlie gulped and tried to pull back, but his hand tightened around her throat. This wasn’t an appropriate conversation to be having right now. Not when his free hand was pulling her bra the rest of the way off. He cupped her breast in his palm, massaging her gently at first. But his hands got rougher; his kisses were turning to nips. His hand switched breasts, grasping this one savagely right off of the bat. Her knees nearly buckled and instinctively she wrapped her arms around him to try and steady herself. His teeth sunk into the lobe of her ear, dragging the dull front teeth and pulling her ear a bit.

 

“How do you live with it Charlotte? Those men had families… brothers… fathers… they were people too.”

 

Charlie jerked back as best she could; pounding a fist against his chest, “It was war! I did what I had to!”

 

“ _Precisely_!” Monroe jerked her back into him. His lips crashed against hers almost violently. The fingers around her neck slowly slipped away and up into her air, cementing her against him. He kicked her wobbling legs apart and pressed his knee up against her center. Charlie couldn’t think straight like this. She should stop him, or at least try, but instead she felt herself rocking her hips against his knee. Now she could feel his erection, begging to be free from the confines of his jeans. His rough hand left her slightly sore breast to unbutton her pants, and she missed the contact. It was harsh and a little painful, but she’d wanted more.

 

He removed his knee just long enough to wiggle her jeans off her hips, followed by her hole-filled, pre-blackout panties. Because he’d spread her legs the pants got caught on her calves instead of falling to the ground as the former general placed his knee back against her vagina. Charlie steadied herself by reaching behind him and digging her fingers into his shoulders as she humped gracelessly against his leg. He kissed her again, this time shoving his tongue into her mouth without warning. He stroked her own tongue with his, the two slippery organs wriggling and writhing against each other, until she was desperate for air.

 

He lifted his knee so that he could step on her pants and drag them to the ground. She thrust against the rough fabric of his jeans and moaned loudly as he practically lifted her onto her toes for a moment. When he managed to actually step on her pants and kick the down and away, Charlie whimpered in dissatisfaction. She wanted him closer, harder, faster…This whole thing of humping his leg wasn’t giving her what she wanted. She needed him so badly. Inside of her. Nothing else would do now. Monroe bent down and kissed between her breasts, down her sternum. He kneeled down onto one knee, making her straddle his leg. With demanding hands he moved her at _his_ pace against his leg. It was fast and rough, almost so much that her back felt sore. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips mercilessly and when he was satisfied that she would continue without his assistance, he released her with a slap against her outer ass cheek. She squealed and kissed his neck. It tasted like salt and sweat. He reeked of alcohol and smoke from the fire but it was wonderful.

 

He shoved her away, sitting her back and returning to his original purpose to getting on his knee. Monroe ran his hands up her hips back to her breasts and took the fleshy mounds in his ruthless hands. Only this time he pressed them together and squeezed; hard. But his lips soothed the dull pain of his crushing grasp as he gently kissed her breasts from left to right. Up the curve of her left breast his tender lips lingered, tickling her with the prickle of his beard. When he got to her nipple he stopped and groaned. He sucked at her breast like a starving baby, it wasn’t gentle or tender. He was hungry for her. The hard nub twisted and rolled in the slippery cavern of his mouth. It bumped against his teeth and she nearly screamed as he sucked it hard, stretching it towards the back of his mouth. She could feel his whole tongue beneath her tit, stroking and pushing and licking desperately.

 

Charlie growled in frustration, reaching for the zipped of his pants. Monroe wasn’t having it though. His right hand reached up to jerk her head back by the hair, and his mouth tore away from her nipple just so he could sink his teeth into the curve of her right breast.

 

“I want you to—”

 

“Shut up Charlotte.” He demanded, wrapping his arms around her (gently this time, and very mindful of her injuries) and lifting her off of his leg. Monroe scooted back and smirked darkly at the sight of her wetness smeared over his leg. He did his best to coat his finger in the liquid before lifting it to her lips. Charlie was awkward, due to the lack of experience she had with her mouth, but she was more than willing to suckle her own juices off of his finger as he sat her back, propped up against his two large travel packs. She reclined against the scratchy, lumpy bags, her legs spread open and Monroe kneeling before her. The ankle high grass blew in the wind and tickled cruelly against her moist cunt. She needed him so bad.

 

Monroe grasped her hand in his and gave her a devilish grin. He took her own fingers and ran them along the edge of her slit, only allowing feather-light contact with the needy flesh. She was slick, shaking and ready, but when she bucked her hips Monroe only teased her more. Finally he took two of her fingers and pressed them against the tight, damp opening. It was a foreign feeling. She didn’t need to masturbate often. She was attractive enough to go out and get any guy she wanted off of the streets to relieve her tension if she really needed to. There had only been a couple of times in the past six months where she’d experimented on herself.

 

Her wet pussy lips flowered open willingly, letting him push one of her fingers in, then a second.

 

“Move them.” He panted, eyes locked on her cunt. Charlie didn’t hesitate either. This wasn’t what she’d been imagining, but she needed relief. Her eyes fluttered closed, only to snap back open as she felt him begin to push his own fingers in, moving in and out of her roughly. He scissored his fingers apart and she moaned in pleasure. Her hips began to rock rhythmically back and force, but his pace was erratic and unpredictable. Charlie shook her head, biting down hard on her lip as he got closer. His hips bucked against hers, driving both of their hands deep into her cunt.

 

“Faster Charlotte.” He commanded, spanking her thigh with his free hand. She heard the loud crack of his palm against her skin before she felt the sharp sting. This wasn’t like the whipping at Lila’s though. This was a good pain, and it only made her comply faster. She panted wildly, fucking herself right in front of him, with his fingers fucking her too.  But she wasn’t ashamed, she was too far gone to have logical thoughts or appropriate emotions at this point. All that mattered was the feeling of his hips slamming against hers, and the pleasure sparking over her entire body. She’d never felt like this. She’d had sex before but not like this.

 

 _Crack!_ He spanked her again, pushing a third finger of his inside of her. It was such a strange contrast. Her slim, boney fingers stoking the top of her pussy and his thick, long, callus coated fingers against the bottom, all coated in her juices. Monroe leaned forward and took her breast in his mouth, his teeth sank into the nipple and lifted it a couple of inches, causing her to scream. Her back went rigid and tense, her entire body shook, her toes curled so tightly that her legs lifted off of the ground.

 

Monroe buried his face in her long blond hair, moaning loudly in her ear, “Louder. Scream louder.” And she did. She screamed freely, her head tossing back as she looked up to the sky. He finger fucked her hard through her own orgasm; taking her own fingers in his hand and forcing them to keep moving inside of her pussy. Her hips twisted and jumped in ecstasy beneath him before trembling and falling limp. Monroe stopped his thrusting gradually, but left his fingers inside of her for another minute as she caught her breath.

 

Finally he tore himself away from her, pulling their slick fingers out of her and lifting them to his mouth. He cleaned every one of them meticulously before licking his lips and standing and turning away.

 

“Gather your things Charlotte. We leave in half an hour.” He said, stalking off into the night. She was confused, and completely spent; not at all ready to travel… but knowing Monroe if she refused to move, he’d just drag her.

She shook her head and groped the darkness for her bra. The fire was mostly dead by now. The best light came from the stars and the moon, but it was hazy tonight. Charlie sighed and bit her lip, staring into the abyss Monroe had just disappeared in…

 

What the hell did she just do?

**Author's Note:**

> I suck ass at opening chapters. I seriously need to work on them. I do fairly well with middles and ends but getting things going is hard for me. Alas.


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